In The Hands Of The Pitiless Poem by Dorothy Kardas, Psy.D. Th.D.

(For unborn brothers and sisters)

And, the wind has brought
Yet another grievous thought,
Thinking of the tiny child
With no proper burial place
Unknown, unnamed
Tortured and betrayed
Instead of being a cherished fruit
The helpless child
Came to be a tortured slave
Instead of being tenderly embraced in arms
Had known the horror and gruesomeness
Of her mother's crimes
Mutilated and desecrated
The precious child
Who has not found a welcoming place
Found untimely, merciless death
Treated and disposed of as a thing
With her inestimable soul within
A refuse heap as her burial place
Without seeing her mother's face
Found no earthly, warm place
With a forgotten - battered face
In her short time
Had known only
Other's brutal rejection and crime

And, the wind has brought
Yet another too disturbing thought
Calling for wrath to heaven - thought